Tuesday, September 9, 2008



There's a hideaway down 'round Logan, well concealed 'midst the trees;
Just a rough and tumble shanty where "The Board" can shoot the breeze.
With no plumbing, lights or water, built of wood and tin and stone; simple
Refuge from the rush of life, a place to be alone.

You can hear the crickets chirping, spy a deer dart through the brush,
Smell the fragrance of the new mown hay and relish nature's hush.
"The Shack" members are a unique blend of fellows young and old.
Some retired, others working, same are quiet, others bold.
It's a time for jokes and laughter, just an evening of pure fun, to relax
With pals and buddies and enjoyed by everyone.

Oh, the tales told within these walls are not meant for repeating, when
The fellows tease and kid around each month at their board meeting.
There's a hard and firm, unwritten rule: No females are allowed, in
This private clubhouse that's been built for a testosterone crowd!

You have never read a menu with the meals they prepare, as they chop
And fry and boil with such gusto, speed and flare!
One night mountain oysters might be served, or duck, squirrel, dove, or
Quail; hot and spicy dishes only fit for a brave, daring male!
Cajun stew, potatoes, fish or beaver, rabbit, pheasant, deer and it's
All washed down with anything from water, coke to beer.

What a valued bond of manhood, such fond memories to hold.
Friends are greatly to be cherished, more than diamonds, wealth or gold.
So let's all embrace the time's we've shared, in years when we look back,
And recall those great board meetings at our special place…
"The Shack".


J. A. Heitmueller